


Mr. Watson

by Spadesinspades



Series: Mixy Ficlets [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 20:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadesinspades/pseuds/Spadesinspades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Watson needs to speak to one of his students, Sherlock Holmes, about an inappropriate paper he submitted for his history assignment.  But Sherlock has plans to make some history of his own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Watson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msaether](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msaether/gifts).



"Mr. Holmes, if you could spare a minute?"

Sherlock bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking as he piles his books into his bag and lingers near the back of the room until it is clear of other students.

"Professor Watson, is something the matter?"  He walks down to the front of the room to pause in front of where John is standing behind his desk.

John clears his throat and opens a folder of graded work from the class.  "It's about what you submitted for the essay assignment last week.  I was wondering if there had perhaps been some... mix up."

He removes a paper and pushes it across the desk to Sherlock.  The younger man regards it for a moment, flips over a few pages, then slides it back.

"I can assure you, there's been no mix up," he replies.

"I- I beg your pardon?"

"There's been no mix up," Sherlock replies calmly, "that is exactly what I intended to submit."

"Well, I hardly think that this is an appropriate response to the assignment.  Not only that, but it is an example of gross misconduct in the eyes of the-"

"Remind me, what was the essay question?" Sherlock asks, interrupting John's train of thought.

"It was, well..." John starts, "it was to describe an interesting historical conquest."

Sherlock places his bag on the floor and walks over to the classroom door, pulling it closed and turning the lock.

"Mr. Holmes, what do you think you're doing?" John asks, a hint of alarm in his voice.

"I think the actual wording in the assignment was to describe one's  _favourite_  historical conquest," Sherlock replies, crossing back towards the desk.  "And that's what I've done."

John picks up the paper and waves it at Sherlock.  "This is not historical - this is... this is pornographic!"

"Professor Watson, do you remember the other day when we were studying those photographs from the second world war?"

"Mr. Holmes, please stop trying to change the subject.  This  _paper_  you wrote is about you and I.  I tried to address it with you privately to save you some embarrassment, but now I'm going to have to report you to the Dean."  John threatens. _  
_

"Call me Sherlock, please," he replies.  He traces one finger along the surface of the desk as he circles around closer to where John is standing.  "I only ask about those photos, by the way, because I remember being bent over Hasting's desk to look at them."

John swallows hard and backs up slowly.

"And when I turned around to ask you a question, I saw your gaze was firmly fixed on my backside," Sherlock continues, "and I imagine the Dean would have something to say about that as well."

"W-what do you want?" John asks.

"Why, to ace the class, of course," Sherlock replies, closing the distance between them.  "And to have my conquest."

John licks his lips nervously, but stops retreating.

"I wouldn't want to fail my assignment due to historical inaccuracies, now would I?"

The room is silent for a moment.  John's eyes flicker over to the door.  Finally, he speaks:

"No," he says, "I suppose you wouldn't." 

"Did you read my paper, Professor?" Sherlock asks, backing John up against a wall.

"I did," he replies.

"To the end?"

"Yes."

Sherlock places one hand on the wall beside John's head and leans in close, eyes fixed on the other man's lips as he speaks.  "And how would you feel about a... re-enactment of sorts?  All in the name of academia, of course."

John's lips part slightly before he speaks.  His voice is barely a whisper.  "I wouldn't necessarily be opposed."

Sherlock smirks and raises an eyebrow suggestively.  John speaks again before he can make his next move.

"But understand, Mr. Holmes, that if this is some plot to ruin me, I  _will_  take you down with me."

Sherlock pushes himself forward on to the balls of his feet and kisses John hard.  When he pulls back, he re-positions himself so that their cheeks are touching and his lips brush John's ear as he speaks.

"Well, I have every intention of going down, Professor Watson, but you can rest assured that your career will remain untarnished."

John clears his throat.  "Very well then, Mister Holmes."

"Call me Sherlock."

"Sherlock," John repeats with a nod.  

He reaches out and takes a fistful of Sherlock's shirt and quickly swings him around to push him up against the wall, their positions now inverted.

John ducks his head to kiss Sherlock's neck, his teeth brushing against pale skin, his tongue tasting sweat and cologne.  Sherlock's eyes flutter shut and a faint moan creeps up his throat and out of his mouth.  He slides his hands up into John's hair, grasping and pulling with a gentle pressure.  John's lips move up Sherlock's neck to his ear, and he bites at it playfully.

"Kiss me," Sherlock demands with some urgency.  A moment later, they fall into each other, kissing aggressively, each trying to assert control over the other.  Sherlock takes John's bottom lip between his teeth and pulls on it, a gesture which elicits a noticeable twitch in the area where John's cock is pressed against Sherlock's leg, divided only by a few layers of khaki and denim.

Sherlock runs his hands down John's sides, lifting the hem of his jumper just enough to find the top of his trousers.  He slips his fingers into the space between the waistband and John's abdomen and begins to work at the button of his fly.  His concentration is divided and the kiss becomes less urgent.  John breaks away suddenly and steps backwards.

"Wait, wait," he says, hands up in a defensive position.  "What the hell are we doing?"

"Well I don't know about you," Sherlock replies, "but I was about to suck you off."

John coughs in response to the blunt answer and clears his throat.  "This is wrong, this is...  I could be fired."

Sherlock reaches out and pulls John back over to him by one of his belt loops.  "I'll tell you what this is,  _Professor._   This is two  _consenting_  adults having  _consensual_  sex."

"But I'm your teacher..."

"I'll drop the class."

"But you said earlier-"

"Not important.  It was dull anyway."

John looks taken aback for a moment.  "What?"

"Enough talking," Sherlock says.  He takes John's hand and guides it to where his own erection is straining against his jeans.  "I want this, you want this.  End of discussion."

With that, he swiftly opens the button and zipper on John's trousers and crouches down in front of him.  John has to steady himself with one hand on the wall as Sherlock reaches into his pants and palms his cock, tugging at it gently to free it from the restrictive clothing.  

He strokes John a few times, roughly, before using his tongue to lick broad swathes along his length.  Sherlock's saliva is slick enough to help his hand glide a little more smoothly and he applies slight pressure to his grip as he strokes.

"Jesus," John says, his voice huskier than before.

Sherlock traces his tongue around the head of John's cock, playfully, before taking it into his mouth.  He flattens his tongue against the underside of the shaft and hollows his cheeks as he sucks, gradually increasing his speed.  He keeps one hand wrapped around the base of John's cock, stroking in rhythm with his mouth.  And every now and then, as he gets back to the tip, he lets his teeth scrape gently across the sensitive flesh of the corona.

John's free hand finds its way onto Sherlock's shoulder as a secondary way to try and steady himself.  Sherlock is easily able to parse out which sensations John enjoys most by how much he digs his fingertips into his shirt.  Every time there is a particularly rough grip, Sherlock hums quietly in contentment, which only seems to make things more intense for John.  It isn't long before his grip tightens and fails to relent.

"Sherlock..." John says, in warning.

Sherlock nods once, in acknowledgement, before pulling his mouth off of John's cock and looking up at him expectantly, lips flushed and swollen.

"What are you-"

"I want you to fuck me," Sherlock replies.  "And I don't really think you're in any position to say no."

John groans quietly and clenches his fist.  "Here?"

"Yes, the desk.  I thought you said you read the paper."

"I did.  But we can't...  Not without-"

"I have everything we need."  Sherlock straightens, walks over to his abandoned bag, and digs around in one of the pockets.  When he looks up, John is watching him with his own cock in his hand.

"Don't you dare wank off."

"Hurry up, then," John replies.

Sherlock narrows his eyes in response, but goes about kicking off his shoes and unfastening his jeans all the same.  He unbuttons his shirt, but leaves it on, hanging open.  He lets his trousers fall to the floor and pulls down his pants, revealing a semi-hard cock.  He beckons John over towards the desk as he tears open a condom packet with his teeth.

"Here, have this," Sherlock offers, as he slides it on to John's cock, unrolling it down to the base.

"Right, well... thanks," John says awkwardly.

"And you'll need this too."

Sherlock hands him a small bottle, about the size of a travel hand sanitizer, full of lube.  John turns it over in his hand before opening the cap and pouring some into his hand.

"Look, I've never..."

Sherlock sighs.  "I figured, which is why you're the one with the condom.  It's not rocket science.  Here."  He takes the lube from John and applies it liberally to his sheathed cock.  Then he takes a few minutes to explain just what exactly  _John_  should be doing with the lube  _he_  has before positioning himself over the desk.  He leans on his forearms and sticks his arse out, then says:

"I know how much you like this view."

John flushes slightly before moving behind Sherlock and kneeling down.  He follows the instructions he was given carefully, gently stretching and preparing Sherlock as he was told.  After what feels like ages to his aching cock, Sherlock finally stops him.

"I'm ready," he says, nearly breathless.  "Fuck me already."

John stands and takes his cock in his hand once more.  He looks at Sherlock bent over in front of him, his skin pale and white under the harsh fluorescent lights.  He strokes himself hard, then presses himself against Sherlock's arse.  He's careful to line himself up and slow to push in.  He can feel Sherlock tense with slight resistance before willing himself to yield.

"Ffffffuck," says Sherlock.  He lowers his forehead to the desk and softly pounds the surface with a fist.  "Christ you're thick."

John grips Sherlock by the hips and pushes in deeper, infuriatingly slowly.  His entire universe narrows down to the sensation of Sherlock wrapped around him - tight and warm.  He looks down at the way his cock is buried deep inside the other man and feels lightheaded.

" _Move,_ " Sherlock urges.

"Oh, right, sorry."

John leans back slightly and slides his cock most of the way out, stopping only when he can feel his head at the rim.  Then he pushes back in, establishing a rhythm.  Sherlock moans with every thrust and the sound of his voice makes John's cock pulse.  He starts to speed up, eager for the sound of Sherlock's pleasure.  John can feel a familiar pressure building at the base of his spine and in his abdomen, but he bites down hard on his lip to distract himself.

"Come on Professor,  _fuck me_ ," goads Sherlock, pressing back against each of John's thrusts.  "I'm not going to break."

John takes a hold of Sherlock's hips more firmly and pushes in with greater force.  He can feel every single nerve ending in his cock as he slides in and out of Sherlock.  Heat and pressure are building in his pelvis, driving him towards an inevitable conclusion.

"Sherlock, I..."

"Dammit!" Sherlock replies.  John watches as he moves one arm out from where he was leaning on it and takes his own cock in his hand, pumping it hard.

Something about the bright lights and notion of Sherlock stoking himself while John's cock is buried deep in his arse pushes John right up to the edge.  He loses his sense of rhythm and just fucks Sherlock as hard as he can against the desk.  Both men are breathing heavily and moaning expletives at each other.  John can feel his cock pulse as he gets closer and closer to orgasm.  

"So... close..." he says, closing his eyes.

"Yes, Professor, yes..." Sherlock replies, pushing back.

John presses in deep as a wave of pleasure overcomes him.  He comes hard and fast, a shuddering heat that travels the length of his body, his cock spasming with each spurt into the condom.  His arms feel like jelly and he slumps forward, resting against Sherlock's back as aftershocks of tingling pleasure course through him.

"Come on, come on..." Sherlock is still stroking himself, chasing after his own orgasm.  John feels his torso shaking from the effort and realizes that he should probably be helping.  

He shifts slightly, sliding his cock out of Sherlock's arse before he totally softens.  He then gets to his knees, and manoeuvres under the desk so that he is positioned beneath where Sherlock is leaned over.  He reaches up and covers Sherlock's hand with his own, startling the other man slightly.  John matches his rhythm, then knocks Sherlock's hand away, taking over.

"Fuck, yes," Sherlock moans.  "God yes, fuck.  Please..."

He strokes him quickly and with firm pressure, but it doesn't seem to be enough.  Sherlock's moans are taking on a whiny, desperate tone.  Unsure what else to do, John takes Sherlock in his mouth and sucks enthusiastically.  A few short moments later, Sherlock cries out and spills into John's mouth without warning.  John swallows, nearly gags, and makes a mental note to perhaps never do that again.

Sherlock takes a moment to catch his breath, then slumps to the floor in front of John.  He leans forward and places an uncharacteristically chaste kiss on John's lips.

"Well done, Professor," Sherlock says.  "A plus."

John grins and shakes his head slightly.  "John.  Call me John."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a fun, silly AU for Kam as a gift for our anniversary, since she's been asking me to write a Student/Teacher AU for a long time. It was also partially inspired by the totally insane song "Mr. Watson" by Ke$ha. Assuming it reads a bit like a bad 80's porn, then I've accomplished what I set out to do.
> 
> Thanks, Kam. That's how I know it's real love.


End file.
